


Nothing changed.

by Emptynarration



Category: Youtube RPF, Youtube egos
Genre: Egos fade which equals death, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad, Tags May Change, fading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 23:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19684213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emptynarration/pseuds/Emptynarration
Summary: Nothing had changed.The egos still went through their daily routines, even though one of them had faded.Haddied.But, that's only what the faded can see.And not what the egos truly feel.





	1. The Host

Nothing had changed.

He would’ve thought something would’ve changed.   
But, he supposed, it also wasn’t all that surprising. The egos were used to one of their kind vanishing, no matter if it was suddenly from one day to the next, or slowly, fading over time.

With relying purely on the fans, Host was surprised he hadn’t seen a vision like this earlier. It didn’t feel like a vision, though.

It felt like he belonged here, but he wasn’t granted to actually be among them anymore. Nothing but a ghost anymore.  
He could watch them, a mixture of memories and his narrations telling him where the egos were, what they were doing. A dark world filled with the memory of colours and shapes, of voices and sounds.

Everyone was still going about their day, doing what they had always done, and Host didn’t suppose it would’ve been any other way like this. Why would their routine change, after all, just because one of their kind had vanished? It had never been like that before.

The doctor took care of the egos and spend time in the clinic, working himself to the bone, always forgetting to take care of himself.

Dark was still taking care of the manor, hiding it with his magic, making sure the egos’ jobs were taken care of and any _accidents_ weren’t traced back to them.

Wilford was still doing his various shows and interviews, coming up with more and more ideas to produce and never following through on them fully.

Bim continued with his own game show, and helping out Wilford, getting more and more flamboyant and throwing around glitter to get stuck in his hair.

The Jims wandered around in their strange antics to discover their next big scoop, covering every and all “stories”.

The Googles followed their own projects, stoic as ever, staying in their office and working on their electronics.

Bing continued to go out and learn more skate tricks, annoying the Googles and the rest of the manor with his whole mannerisms.

Yan still stalked her current senpai and tried to get closer to him, while simultaneously murdering whichever person got in her way.

And the Host?  
He was gone.

He was watching it all happen while not being there anymore. He listened to the egos continue to exist and cling to life, keeping the attention of the fans on them in one way or another. They tried their hardest, and clung to the littlest things to keep existing.

Host had no clue how it had happened, how he had faded, but he supposed it didn’t matted. He’s never been that incredibly well known, and he’s been officially discontinued. A few words, a familiar piece of clothing, a bit of art and writing, was all that had kept him alive.  
But there were no more words that were said with intent, no clothes driving the fans wild that it might hint to being him. Art and writing dwindled, until it wasn’t enough anymore.

It hadn’t mattered how hard he had tried. How hard he tried to keep going, do whatever he could to continue. Being officially discarded, he didn’t matter anymore.

He faded, and he was gone, and the egos continued.

It hurt.

It hurt watching them continue. Watching them hold meetings, watching them go about their day like he hadn’t been there before.  
It hurt his room was gone, and it hurt that the library was gathering dust, the recording room he had gotten being never visited again.

It hurt, and it didn’t matter what he did now, because he didn’t matter anymore.

Watching them, leaving his seat at the table empty, it hurt.

Watching them, passing the library with nothing but a sad look, it hurt.

Watching them, passing the place his room had been, it hurt.

It hurt.

 _It hurt_.

And it didn’t matter if he could watch them, that he could scream and wail, clutch his chest and hunch over himself tightly.  
It didn’t matter he was sobbing, pleading with fate and life to _please give him another chance to stay_.  
It didn’t matter how much it hurt to watch them all forget about him as if he’s never been there in the first place.

It didn’t matter how blood cascaded down his cheeks, bandages soaked and sitting heavy on his face, his chest constricting as he cried in agony.

Because _he_ didn’t matter anymore.

and it _hurt_.


	2. Doctor Iplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor took care of the egos and spend time in the clinic, working himself to the bone, always forgetting to take care of himself.

A lot had changed, when it first happened.

Everyone had been shocked, when Host started to get transparent. When his narrations got quieter, less powerful, and his presence got weaker.  
As he started to fade.

No one would’ve thought he would be one of the ones who faded, were forgotten and get too weak to continue living.  
But he faded, slowly and painfully.

No one had been there when he was fully gone.

He had hidden himself in his library, and his recording room, barely able to be seen walking between the two. Host never even went back to his own room -afraid to sleep and fade while unaware.  
He spend his time writing, and recording, and sleeping as little as humanly possible. Just to keep going, keep trying.

He had been alone when he had faded, and Edward had been the one to find out he had.

Edward had wanted to check up on him. Coax him into eating something, perhaps take a break. It wouldn’t do him any good in the end to make himself suffer even more.  
But, Host hadn’t been in his room. He hadn’t been in the recording room. He hadn’t been in the library.

Edward was terrified, running around, asking _everyone_ if they had seen the Host. Searching if he was anywhere in the manor, if he had gone outside, if he was _still alive_.

But he was gone.

Edward broke down, not able to comprehend it. The Host had been _his friend_. It had already hurt him that he had hidden himself away so much, that he had locked himself away and closed off while he was fading.

It hurt to think Host had been all alone in his final moments.

He buried himself in work, then.  
Edward couldn’t stand to watch any of the others hurt, especially now that the Host was faded. He still waited every day for the Host to change his bandages. He waited for him to come and get his eyes cleaned and checked.  
Edward waited, for hours, before remembering that the Host was gone.

He’d just sit there then, staring off into space.  
Thinking.  
Remembering the Host was _gone_ , and there was no guarantee he’d ever come back.

It didn’t happen often that egos came back after fading.

Edward wanted to hope Host would come back, but he knew how there was no way. No way the fans would get enough attention back on him to keep him alive. Host was discontinued, and he’d never be used again. Never gain enough attention again that way.

It hurt, to think Host was gone.


	3. Darkiplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark was still taking care of the manor, hiding it with his magic, making sure the egos’ jobs were taken care of and any accidents weren’t traced back to them.

Dark always knew.

He was the head of the egos, the first one the fans made into a living and breathing being, before he was reformed and made into a proper character, an ego with a story and background. If it were truly his, who knew?  
It’s all just a _story_ after all.

He knew every single ego that came into existence, and he always knew when they were fading. It was a feeling, a strange connection he had to being the first, being the one who’s existed half-faded for a long time, before never getting close to it ever again.

He knew the exact moment Host started to fade, and he had pulled him to the side. He had talked with him, but Host was stubborn. He’s always been.  
He’s faded before, but had come back suddenly.   
And now he was fading once more, and Dark _knew_ it was close to impossible for him to come back.

He prepared himself for one of them fading.

For one of the strongest of them, one of the most powerful, and one of the most loved ones. For him to lose so much attention, to be so uncared about, for the Host to cease to exist once more.

And most likely never come back.

It would take a toll on all of the egos. Dark was certain of that. Even as reclusive as the Host had been, he had made a lasting impression, he had been important to all of them.  
Host may not be aware of it, but Dark most certainly was. Host was loved by them all, and it would devastate them all to lose him.

He could feel it when Host wasn’t here anymore. When his power left the manor, and another connection was lost.  
When Edward barged into the room, desperate asking if he had seen the Host, if he knew where he was, he couldn’t do more but look sadly at the frantic doctor and let him run off again.

The Host would be missed by everyone.


	4. Wilford Warfstache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilford was still doing his various shows and interviews, coming up with more and more ideas to produce and never following through on them fully.

Wilford didn’t want to believe that the Host was gone.

He never handled it well, whenever one of them faded. Bim had faded before too, and they’ve always been close. It had taken weeks for Wilford to accept that Bim wasn’t there, and wasn’t coming back.  
Until he had, and Wilford believed that everyone he cared about would always come back. It’s always been like that before, after all.

When Edward, defeated and deflated, arrived in the studio and asked if Wilford had any clue where Host might be and do, Wilford neither knew, nor believed Host had vanished.  
Edward’s gaze had been empty, a silent acceptance of Wilford’s denial, and he had left him alone.

Wilford still went to Host’s room, or into the library, or the recording room. Speaking to thin air, how Host should come to the studio, record his shows there, that they’d love to have him there.  
Reacting to words spoken before, but only silence in its place, accepting Host’s refusal time and time again.

Wilford still looked at the Host’s seat during meetings, never knowing what he murmured about, always curious about it. Host never really contributed to their meetings anyways.

Wilford still made breakfast for one more ego who wasn’t sitting at the table anymore, food that just sat there silently unless another ego took it to eat, too hungry with only their own portion.

It took a long time until Wilford stopped.

He didn’t want to. He still asked Host if he wouldn’t tell him a story, sitting in the library all by himself, unable to read the books surrounding him.  
And one day, he asked, and he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.   
He knew He would never be told another story again.   
He knew he’d never get to go back outside together with the Host, both armed with their respective weapons, and murder people disrespecting the Host’s work.

He knew Host was gone, and he didn’t want to believe it.


	5. Bim Trimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bim continued with his own game show, and helping out Wilford, getting more and more flamboyant and throwing around glitter to get stuck in his hair.

Bim had never really been close to the Host.

They were very different beings, the two of them. Host was reclusive, quiet, withdrawn into himself. Preferring to be on his own and unwilling to spend a lot of time with all of the others.  
Sure it was because of the Host’s narrations making life hard while being around a big group of people, but still.  
Bim, on the other hand, was truly an extrovert. He loved being around people, he loved talking and talking and talking, he loved game shows and glitter and big overly unnecessary gestures while talking.

And still, Bim liked to listen to the Host’s radio show whenever he was writing his scripts, or had to help Wilford with his own. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, or had to work through the night, or just felt uninspired, he turned on the radio and listened to the Host talk.

When he had first heard the Host had faded, he stayed in his room.

He knew exactly how it felt like to fade. To be nothing but a vague idea that could at any time be fully disregarded and uncared about, or be at any moment suddenly loved again and brought back into existence.  
It scared him to know how such a powerful ego could fade just like that. And it scared him that it could happen at any time, at any moment, to all of them.

Not seeing Host during breakfast, not seeing him during meetings, was a strange feeling. It settled in his chest like a stone, wearing him down, keeping him down, and making him unable to feel very motivated.

At night, he turned on his radio, and listened to static.

He missed the Host’s voice. His constant murmurs during conferences, his mumbles filling the hallways. His quiet remarks and quips.  
Bim really missed the radio show, the stories Host told every night to whoever was there to listen.

All he could listen to now was static, letting it fill his head as all he could do was stare off into space, instead of working.


	6. The Jims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jims wandered around in their strange antics to discover their next big scoop, covering every and all “stories”.

The Jims were used to a full manor. To egos coming and going, staying and not staying, fading and existing. They had a hundred videos of every little ego that had ever appeared, even if it was a silly one just surviving a few days like Goopiplier had.  
They knew them all, they remembered them all, and they had videos of them all.

The Host was no exception to that, of course.

They had videos of when the Author had first appeared. Angry and stubborn, a sadistic asshole who enjoyed hurting others without any reason.  
They had videos of the Author being actually nice, talking with Edward -back when he was still new as well- about medical things Author probably needed for his stories.  
They had videos of the Author in Edward’s clinic, with bandages wrapped tightly around his eyes, and the man more terrified than he’s ever been.  
They had videos of the Host first appearing, anxious and uncertain, constantly mumbling and never once breaking narrations.  
They had videos of the Host getting more comfortable, and the other egos starting to trust him a little more and more.  
And they had videos of the Host telling them stories.

The Host being gone was strange.

They recorded the day he vanished. How Edward desperately asked them if they had seen the Host, if they knew anything, nearly in tears.  
How they went to the Host’s library, recording the eerie silence within, shivers down their spines as they were used to always hearing Host’s mumbling.  
How they peeked into the recording room, the microphone still turned on, and how they quietly apologized to whatever the Host had been doing before fading, and turning everything off.  
How they found Edward, breaking down in the clinic, mourning Host.

Their videos getting safely tucked away into the archives, next to the other ones concerning the Host. 

And they missed the Host. He was strange, but he was their blind Jim, their narrating Jim, their bloody bandages Jim. He had been one of them, like all of the other egos had been, and they mourned their lost one.

They may have never been especially close to the Host, but they had loved his stories, listening to them, or even getting a book sometimes to read.

They missed it.


	7. The Googles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Googles followed their own projects, stoic as ever, staying in their office and working on their electronics.

The Googles _seemed_ to be the least affected of the Host’s fading.

They’ve had little to do with him as a group, usually. Host never felt very comfortable around them, and they not around him. When the four of them were together, they tended to be synchronized, acting the same, stoic and unfeeling. Mostly focused on their projects, whatever they were doing at the moment.  
Host knew how it felt like to be focused, and thus didn’t bother them too much.

Individually, they were a little different.

Each Google was different, of course. They all had different functions, in a way, while all sharing the same motive and objectives. But when met alone, they had different interests, likes and dislikes, and as much as the four were a unit, they were also single individuals.

Google Blue, usually just Google, liked to read Host’s stories, sometimes. He pointed out things that didn’t match up, continuity errors and alike, and the Host always appreciated the feedback.  
They talked, sometimes, about humans. Host and Google both sharing their own way of immense knowledge, talking about the different things humans had done and were doing.

Google Yellow, usually Oliver, liked to listen to Host talk. No matter what he was telling, Oliver found a strange sort of comfort from it. Oliver told Host about his day, and the projects he was working on, and the Host listened and asked about it, showing interest in what Oliver had to say.  
Oliver always appreciated it. How he could talk about himself, and Host showed interest and didn’t try to stir the conversation to anything else.

Google Green, mostly just Green, liked to help the Host with his equipment. The Host preferred to use older things, if only because they were easier to use, but they needed a lot of maintenance. Green helped him with it, talking about the differences of this equipment and newer ones, and Host liked to listen to it, talking about his experiences with it all.

Google Red, just Red, enjoyed the more murderous side of Host. Whenever he got his bat again and went out to teach someone a lesson, show them how to appreciate a good story when they were a part of it.  
He loved to listen to Host describe it in disgustingly fine detail, enjoying seeing the Host splattered in blood that wasn’t his own, carrying his bat around full of confidence.

When the Host was gone, they all lost someone very important to them.

Google could read the Host’s stories, but there was no way to tell the man about little errors. There was no one to talk about all the things humans did anymore.  
Oliver couldn’t talk with Host anymore, couldn’t rant about himself and his day to anyone anymore, and no one who was content to just listen and ask little questions to keep him going. Interested in what he had to say.  
Green couldn’t continue his maintenance on Host’s equipment, because there was no one who would use it ever again. There was no one to talk to about the differences of back then and now, and what would maybe be in the future.  
Red couldn’t talk about murders anymore, didn’t have anyone to talk about the best ways of killing humans either as slowly and painfully as possible, or as quickly and discreetly.

The unit of four may not be largely affected by the Host’s fading, but each individual was saddened greatly.


	8. Bingiplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing continued to go out and learn more skate tricks, annoying the Googles and the rest of the manor with his whole mannerisms.

No one would think Bing and the Host were any sort of close.

Bing was loud, he was annoying, and he talked in the weirdest of slangs most all of the time. He spend most his time outside on his skateboard, and when forced to sit at a table for too long with nothing to do, he even had a fingerboard to play with just like he enjoyed using his own skateboard.

But Bing also enjoyed talking with the Host.

They talked about the evolution of language, digging up words no one said anymore and what they were replaced with pretty much, and comparing new slang to old slang, new words to old words, finding similarities and total strangeness in many.  
It was always a lot of fun, and Bing learned a lot each time, just like the Host did. Language was interesting, and with the Host even knowing more than just English, they could not only talk in a whole other language, but also talk about the history of those languages.

Bing enjoyed going to Host’s library to enjoy some quiet, just relaxing with a good book, or perhaps even just laying around and listening to the Host’s quiet muttered words. It was nice, just sharing the same space.

But now, Bing had no one to just talk with, no one who had the same knowledge and actual interest to talk with him for hours.  
Staying in the library all alone now was just depressing, with the Host’s murmurs missing from it.


	9. Yandereplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yan still stalked her current senpai and tried to get closer to him, while simultaneously murdering whichever person got in her way.

Yan had absolutely _adored_ the Host.

They had loved to spend their time with him more than with anyone else, because they could gush about their senpai for hours, while the Host would be listening to them talk without turning away, without telling them to shut up and leave him alone. Yandere was more than happy to be with the Host and be able to talk while knowing they were listened to.

They could talk with the Host about the plans they had made to take care of people in their way of the love of their senpai, plans to achieve their goals, plans to acquire the love of their senpai and keep them all for themselves.

They could sit in Host’s library and merely write in their diary, while listening to Host’s narrations, or his radio show with their phone. They could pick whichever book of the Host’s and read it, and ask him about all the things they didn’t know or understand.

But when the Host was gone, so was their friend.

They weren’t really close to anyone else, and no one really cared about them and their senpai. Whenever they talked about him, they turned away, told them to shut up, that no one cared. Sometimes even telling them they’d never get their senpai and should give up.

Host had never been like that, and they had loved that about him. But now Host was back, and all that was left of him were his books.  
Yan was too sad to take any of the books to take and read, if only because Host wasn’t there to recommend anything, because Host couldn’t allow them to tka e a book.

They missed him, and they wrote it down in their diary.


End file.
